Dance
by keelhaulrose
Summary: New full title: The Three Most Important Dances in Timothy McGee's Life. I think that's pretty self explanatory. A three-part gift for my beta.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First off, a Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays to you and yours.**

**This is a Christmas gift for my beta, Maria Binger. I'm debating adding two chapters, for which I have a couple ideas swimming around my head, but since I didn't have the time to put them down just yet I thought I would get this out for Christmas. I can hit a deadline!**

**Also, I've never written this pairing, nor have I ever written NCIS before. Be kind, and enjoy.**

"I hate these things," Timothy McGee grumbled, straightening his bow tie and sitting at a spare seat at the table containing all his co-workers.

"Don't have one for yourself," warned Gibbs, smiling and taking a sip from his beer.

"Don't worry about that," he grumbled.

"Relax, McGeek," Tony DiNozzo smiled widely, clapping him on the back before he took his seat. "As the bride's brother you mean exactly nothing to this wedding because your job of threatening any man who dares threaten your sister's innocence and virtue are over. You failed mis…"

Ziva slapped the back of his head.

"Thanks, Ziva," Tim smiled.

"Anytime," she promised. "You made it through the ceremony. The hard part is over."

"The hard part has yet to come," Tony corrected her. "It's a wedding. 'Tons of opportunities to meet gorgeous ladies who are so aroused by the thought of marriage that they'll throw their inhibitions to the wind'. Wedding Crashers, Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn. Two men who…"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Shut up."

"Sure thing," he cringed.

"You are a groomsman," Ziva said, brushing some lint off Timothy's shoulder. "And you don't have to make a speech, no?"

"No, thank God," Tim sighed in relief.

"Then enjoy yourself," she said.

"Excuse me," a soft voice cut in, and Tim turned to see a beautiful woman wearing a wine-colored dress standing next to him. His breath hitched as he looked her over; she had warm chocolate eyes, soft brown curls framing her face, and the dress was cut low enough to draw the eye of several nearby men, especially Tony, but not so low it was inappropriate. Just above the neckline he could see an old, thick scar but she wore a shorter necklace to draw eyes away from it.

"You must be Hermione Granger," the woman said.

"What?" he asked, looking around, then his eyes fell on the table card for the seat he was in, and saw it bore that name. "Oh, no," he said, jumping up out of the chair as quickly as if it had burned him. "I was just sitting there. You know, talking. I was just… That's not my name."

"Pity," she said with a smile. "I've never met someone else named Hermione, and I was so hoping today might be the day."

"Well, I, um… I guess if you are, it's not going to be me," he stumbled, wincing at how the words came out.

She looked at him expectantly for a moment before saying, "Maybe I should call you that? Or are you going to tell me your proper name?"

"Timothy McGeek… er, McGee," he replied, offering his hand.

"You already know I'm Hermione Granger. You must be Sarah's brother," she said, shaking it.

"I am. Are you a friend from school?"

"No, I'm actually a step-cousin of the groom."

"Oh. James didn't mention he… um, that he, you know, had cousins."

"Step-cousin. It tends to happen when one's aunt marries a man with two children," she chuckled.

"Yeah. I know," he said, trying not to cringe at himself. "I should probably just stop talking."

"I kind of like you talking," she smiled, but before he could reply he felt someone tap his shoulder.

"It's time to do the entrance," the DJ informed him.

"I, um, I gotta go," he smiled nervously at Hermione.

"Nice to meet you, Timothy," she smiled back.

He started walking out of the ballroom, and looked back towards Hermione. Tony had taken over his spot, and was holding the seat out for her. Tim felt a bubble of jealousy build up inside him, but he didn't have time to go back and say anything. When he entered the room again he was relieved to see that Ziva had seemingly refused to give up her seat next to Hermione, and despite Tony's best efforts to get her attention Hermione was smiling over at him. He managed a smile back before nearly running into his great-aunt's chair.

The dinner and speeches took up the next hour, and he didn't have a chance to get out of his chair until after the first dance. As couples filled the dance floor Tim returned to the table, but Hermione wasn't there, though he was relieved to see Tony was, looking distinctively irritated.

"Looking for Hermione, McGoo?" Tony asked as Tim came over.

"No, yeah. What?" he replied.

"Tony tried all through dinner to impress Miss Granger, but she gave him the cold elbow," Ziva told him with a smirk.

"Shoulder, David!" Tony snapped. "She should have had the decency to mention that she doesn't own a TV and hasn't seen a movie since she was thirteen _before_ we were half done with our entrees."

"I think she tried to get you to stop, but you lack the capacity to realize when a woman is completely disinterested. After that, I think she got a kick of you looking like a jackass."

"You need to stop getting _those_ phrases right," he grumbled.

"I like her," she smiled as she nodded towards Hermione, who was dancing with James. "There's something about her. I can tell she's been a fighter, but she hasn't let it get to her. That's not easy to do. It's something special," she added before forcing Tony to take her out for a dance.

Tim found himself watching Hermione dance, smiling when she smiled. Several times he made a funny motion to go towards her, but each time his brain would refuse to give the order to his feet to move. He tried having a conversation with her in his head, but he couldn't even make that sound anything but awkward.

"McGee!" Gibbs snapped, appearing at his side.

"Yes, boss?" Tim said, straightening up, wondering briefly what he had done.

"Go cut in," he ordered softly but firmly.

"Right away, boss," he said, moving stiffly towards Hermione until he was right next to her.

"Um.. do you, I mean would you…?" he started.

"I would love a dance," Hermione said, giving James a kiss on his cheek and sending him back towards his bride. She placed a hand on Tim's shoulder, and motioned for him to take her waist. When he seemed unable to move she gently started leading him.

"Your friends told me you work for NCIS?" she started.

"Yes. I'm a field agent there, and part of the Major Case Response Team."

"What does that entail?"

"We go out to crime scenes, collect and process evidence, and solve the case."

"You make it sound so simple," she smiled.

"It is, well, it's not always simple. Most people don't sign their names to crime scenes or anything, but once you do the same things several times it becomes second nature to do them. Plus it makes it easier to think ahead when Gibbs is your boss."

"He seems the strong and silent type," she nodded. "I'm assuming he's a no-nonsense type of boss."

"We deal a lot with murdered sailors or Marines. As a former Marine he never takes the death of one lightly," he told her.

"I understand. Murder is never something to take lightly."

"Someone could tell Tony that," he grumbled.

"He is a character," she rolled her eyes.

"He can be," he chuckled in agreement.

"Does he ever stop talking about movies?"

"No. And if you ask him to he'll probably think of a movie quote as to why he should watch more movies."

"I would think that people in your profession would need an escape."

"Yeah," he replied softly.

"May I ask what yours is? What does Timothy McGee like to do when he's not out catching bad guys?"

"I do a little writing..."

"Ziva mentioned that as well. She said you were a published writer."

"Yeah, I have a couple books out there," he said modestly.

"She said they seemed very familiar to her."

"Yeah, I just… You see, I write… They're kind of similar to my co-workers."

"As in based on?"

"Kinda," he muttered, then quickly asked her what she did to change the direction of the conversation.

"Law enforcement as well," she replied vaguely.

"Are you a cop, a detective, a federal agent, parole…?"

"A detective of sorts," she replied.

"And do you live in the area?"

"I have a little place to stay nearby," she replied, again with no offer of elaboration.

"Well, where is it that you work?"

"Government," she said simply, and normally red flags would be going up at her lack of any type of information in her answers, but for some reason he felt like she was telling him as much as she was allowed, that there was some big secret she was holding. For a brief moment he wondered if she was part of the CIA or MI6.

"A woman of few words," he observed.

"Some men prefer their women to say few words."

"Not me," he shook his head. "I think it's important for two people to be able to communicate freely."

"Of course," she said as the song ended.

"My turn," Sarah said, appearing at his side.

"You can't say no to the bride," Hermione smiled, stepping out of Tim's embrace and shooting him a soft smile before disappearing into the crowd. When he was done dancing with Sarah he went searching for Hermione again, but didn't find her until Sarah and James were saying their goodbyes before climbing into their getaway car.

"Some party," he heard her voice say behind him, and he spun around to see her standing in the shadows.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Some party."

"Walk with me?" she asked, offering a hand and gazing towards a dimly-lit path that wound around a fountain, past a gazebo and ended with a couple benches overlooking a small pond.

"Sure," he replied, and she took his arm and allowed him to lead her onto the path and away from the sound of the crowd starting to disperse.

"You said you stayed near here, but do you live near here or do you just come visit on occasion?" he asked.

"I stay here, but I have no reason to call it home. More a flat that is convenient to my workplace," she shrugged. "I still keep a place across the pond, as you might say. Close to my friends and family."

"Why would you come over here if your friends and family are back there?"

"I woke up one day and realized I was working at a place that, a few years prior, had done their damnedest to discredit and harm my friends and myself. And when we were proven right they hired us and tried to cover up the fact that they had ever spoken ill of us. And that didn't settle well with me. So I looked over here, and was immediately hired by… pretty much the equivalent, though this one had nothing to say but positive things about me, and agreed with my assessment that my former employers were self-serving prats."

"You know most governments are so-called self-serving prats, right?" he asked as they said sat in the gazebo.

"Yes, but the people I work for now know how to kiss my ass and recognize my genius," she said with a wide smile he couldn't help but return.

"How long have you been in the area?"

"A few months."

"Made any friends or anything?"

"I work my arse off. I haven't had much time or energy for socializing, not that I'm against it. I honestly never met James before today, my aunt is more my Mum's second-cousin, she just took me in for a couple weeks until I got a place of my own and apparently there was a shortage of family on the grooms side, so they took what they could get."

"I see," he said, trying to sort what she had just said in his head. "Well, I'm glad you came over, and glad you agreed to come to the wedding."

"I am, too," she said, gently placing a hand on his knee.

"And I would, you know, love… I mean _like_ to see you again. Maybe just show you a few things to do in the area."

"I'd like that," she nodded.

"Are you free next Friday night?"

"I'll make sure I am."

"Great. So, I'll see you then?"

"Of course," she said, biting her lip. Then, before he realized what she was about to do she leaned forward, catching his lips with hers. Surprised he only had a couple seconds to register what she was doing and realize he was really enjoying it, but too soon she was pulling away and standing up.

"I'll see you Friday, then," she said, giving his hand a squeeze before turning and walking down the steps and towards the pond.

He watched her go when he suddenly realized something. "I need your phone number or e-mail or something to contact you."

"Check your breast pocket!" she called over her shoulder.

He fumbled inside his jacket and pulled out her seating card. Underneath her name she had written her number. He could not remember a moment where she could have possibly put the card there.

"How did you…?" he looked up, holding up the card, but she was already gone. Smiling to himself he replaced the card in his pocket. It wasn't until late that night he realized that she had walked the opposite way of the parking lot, and there were no apartment buildings for miles in that direction.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Due to the numerous reviews I received asking for more, and because the idea for this chapter and the next won't leave my head, I decided this is now a story in three parts. I'm not going to change the name, but I am going to change the description.**

**A million thanks to everyone who left a review. I love me some McGee, but this is a pairing I've never done before (though I think they would be a cute couple). I'm glad y'all seem happy with it! Enjoy.**

A soft Christmas carol played through the house. Tim watched Hermione, now his girlfriend of three and a half years, as she performed simple 'magic' tricks, much to the delight of Amira. No one knew that Hermione excelled at the tricks because she was really a witch and not just talented at sleight of hand. And, truth be told, Amira didn't care either way. She was just delighted at Hermione's ability to make small objects levitate, light bulbs turn on of their own accord, and flowers to appear out of nowhere.

The fact that she was a witch had been a shock. He would admit that to anyone. If someone had told him before he met Hermione that witches and wizards were real and living all over the globe he would have pointed fingers at the creepy, loner-types who tended to scare young children and have an affinity for cats. Hermione seemed so, for a lack of a better word, normal. They had gone on five dates before she invited him up to her apartment, and when she hadn't let him take stock of her small home. He would have noticed how different it was, or at least the complete lack of technology. How he missed the owl in the cage in the corner… well, Hermione's insistent tugging at his shirt was very distracting at the time. But as distracted as he was there was no distracting from her climax, or more specifically what happened during her climax. Maybe the fact that the bed had levitated six inches off the ground might have been easy to miss, given the fact that it had done so slowly, but the sudden crash back to the floor was impossible to miss. It was then Hermione admitted everything, producing a wand and performing some extraordinary magic that had sent him into a dead faint.

It had taken some getting used to, but he had no desire to break up with Hermione over her magic. Everyone has their talents, he reasoned, and while her talent was beyond extraordinary, it was still a talent. He wouldn't have left her if she revealed that she was a world-class athlete or if she revealed she could speak in iambic pentameter without thought, so he wasn't going to leave her over her magic. It delighted Hermione that he accepted her, and she had made him so late for work the next day he was afraid that Gibbs was going to skin him alive. The only thing that had saved him was Ziva saying that he had mentioned something about a doctor's appointment, and caught him on the elevator to tell him the story.

The more magic he was around, the more he got used to it. The first time Hermione had used her wand to clear the table had been a shock, but slowly it became so commonplace that he would playfully tease her for getting on a 'fitness kick' if she got up to clean dishes without magic. And it wasn't just Hermione teaching him something new. Hermione had been around computers, telephones, and the like as a young girl, but as she established herself more in the magical community she severed her ties to most technology, and by the time they started dating Hermione had cut most of it out of her life save for a lone cell phone that she left at the house more often than not. So when she started staying at his house he started teaching her how to work his things. A couple of times she threatened to hex something when she became confused at how things didn't seem logical, but he managed to fix it, and she would tease him about being part-robot.

The more serious their relationship got, the more Tim started looking towards the future. He wasn't sure when he stopped looking at Hermione solely as his girlfriend, but gradually he started seeing her as his potential wife, and a few times he caught himself wondering about what their kids might be like. If it was anything like what Tony kept saying, they'd be nerdy little braniacs more concerned with getting their homework done than doing anything he considered fun.

And that's how they got to Christmas dinner at Ducky's house. The ring was bought, he had it in his pocket, like he had for a week. He was waiting for the right time, or at least that's what he was telling himself. Hermione and Amira were probably the only two people in the house who didn't know he was preparing to propose, the team had found out three days ago. They had been gathered in Abby's lab when he went to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket and the box hand fallen to the floor. Ziva saw it first, gasped, and snatched it up before he could hide it away. She was across the room in seconds, Abby behind her in that annoying soundless communication that girls seemed to be able to do. They reminded him of Gollum as they pried the box open and gushed over the ring. Before he even had managed to steal the box back from them they had seemingly planned half the wedding, and it was only Gibbs snapping at them that brought them back to work.

"Something on your mind, McGee?" Gibbs appeared next to him on the couch, and for a brief second he remembered when Hermione told him about the Taboo on Voldemort's name and the Death Eaters knew the second someone said his name.

"I… I just… Nothing, boss," he stammered in reply.

"You haven't asked her yet."

"No. No I haven't."

"Something wrong?"

"No. I just… I'm worried. What if she says no?"

"Why do you think she'd say that?"

"I just look at her. She's too good for me."

He gave a little shrug. "All men think that. If she thought that, do you think she would have stayed with you this long?"

"No," he replied.

"If you're going until you're sure of her answer, you spent a load of money on a ring she's never going to see."

Hermione stood up as Amira ran off towards the bathroom. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on him. She smiled and locked eyes with him, and he returned the smile before standing up and walking out onto the porch. A few seconds later she followed, closing the door behind her.

"Is everything alright, Tim?" she asked.

"Yeah. Everything… everything is good," he nodded.

"Timothy…" she said, a kind smile crossing her face.

He reached for her, and she stepped into his embrace, kissing his cheek lightly and resting her head against his shoulder. "Everything is okay, really," he assured her.

"I'll take your word for it," she whispered. Unexpectedly the window opened a crack, and the sounds of "White Christmas" filled the air. She moved one of his hands to her waist, intertwined the fingers on their other hands, and started leading him in a dance until he reluctantly took over.

"Are you having a happy Christmas so far?" she asked.

"It might be a little better if we hadn't spent half of it solving that case," he grumbled.

"You gave someone an answer on Christmas. It may have been for a question they wished they never had to ask, but it is probably better they have that answer than spend their whole holiday wondering."

"I know. But sometimes I would like to be able to sleep in on Christmas."

"You have tomorrow off. I'll let you sleep all day. I'll make you breakfast in bed, even, so you won't have to leave the room if you don't want to. Or, if it'll convince you to stay in bed, I'll stay there with you. I'm sure we can think of something to do in bed all day."

"Yeah," he chuckled nervously, feeling his face turning red and glancing through the windows to make sure Tony wasn't in earshot. They rotated slowly for a while, neither really listening to the song, before Hermione suddenly stood on tip-toe to catch his lips with hers.

"You looked like you could use a kiss," she explained, her face still close to his.

"Hermione I have to marry you," he replied, without even thinking of the words that came out of his mouth.

She stopped dead, looking at him. "You what?" she asked in a low voice.

He winced. "I totally messed that up. I swear it's not how it went in my head. I'm sorry. I just should have…" he sighed, then sunk to his knee in front of her, fumbling for the ring and dropping the box as he managed to get it out. He swore under his breath, picked it up, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he looked up at Hermione, who had one hand covering her mouth in surprise. He took her other hand and suddenly realized that he was more afraid not to ask. "Hermione Granger, my time with you has been nothing short of, well, magical. I cannot wait for every moment we get to spend together, and nothing would make me happier or more honored to think that those moments are going to be around forever. I love you so much- will you marry me?"

"Yes," she managed in a whisper, and he slipped the ring on her finger. She didn't even look at it before flinging herself at him, arms wrapping around him, kissing him passionately. "I kind of liked the bit about having to marry me," she laughed against his lips.

"I meant I had to ask you something."

"It was a good slip-up."

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too, Timothy," she said.

"Do you want to go in and tell everyone?"

She took his hands again, starting their slow dancing again. "I think a few more minutes of this would be good," she said, resting her head against him.

He knew that in a few minutes he'd be dealing with his teams reactions- Ducky spurting some old quote about marriage, Ziva offering heartfelt congratulations and possibly a blessing in her native tongue, Tony teasing him, Abby turning into a black-topped blur of excitement and Gibbs' fatherly nod of approval, but in that moment he was happy. In that moment life was perfect.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Chapter 3 of 3. Thanks to everyone who has been supportive of this. It will probably take me forever, since I have a bunch of WIPs, but this might not mark the end of my NCIS/HP days. We'll see... Enjoy!**

After working for so many years in the same area he had grown accustomed to the everyday noises like ringing phones, copiers, and low level talking. So he didn't even notice when the elevator door dinged to announce someone had arrived on their floor. He did, however, notice several seconds later when he suddenly found himself surrounded by three angry-looking women, two with their hands on their hips, the third clutching a garment bag and tapping her foot. He looked up into the face of Hermione, his wife of fifteen years, and swallowed hard. He knew why she was there, but he had not expected her to recruit Ziva and Abby as reinforcements. Tony, who had a great sense of self-preservation, had retreated to the comfort of his desk, and for a second he said a quick prayer that Gibbs had retired from field work and was now teaching interrogation, well away from the scene that was about to happen.

"It's five-thirty," Hermione said impatiently.

"Yeah," he said nervously. "Yeah, it is."

"You said that you were leaving at five."

"Yeah, I, uh, I did."

"But you are obviously here."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"When exactly were you planning on leaving?" she asked, hand going to her hip. He would never say it aloud, especially in front of Tony, but he found her so attractive when she was angry. Her face would flush slightly, there would be a fire behind her eyes, and he could feel the power of her magic radiating around her, ready for quick use. He knew if he pushed too far that magic might actually manifest itself, but if he was careful he got a view of one sexy, former warrior Hermione, and luckily for him it wasn't very often she turned down make-up sex.

"I was just… I mean… I've been really swamped here, Hermione, and I still have so much to do…"

"Oh, no you don't," Abby cut in. "Timothy McGee, you are not going to weasel out of this one."

"You do not have to do all your paperwork tonight. It can wait until Monday," Ziva threw in.

Tim threw them both looks that said plainly 'thanks for backing me up'.

"I really want to get this done," he said, vaguely pointing at his computer screen, but he could sense he had already lost the fight.

"No," Hermione said firmly. "You promised her. She's been looking forward to this for weeks. I've spent two hours getting her ready and convincing her you are going to be there. I had to send her with Emily and her dad, I will be damned if you stand her up."

"But…"

"Two hours, McGee! Unaccpetable!" Abby trilled.

"If you do not get ready right now, I will knock you unconscious and drag you there myself," Ziva warned.

"Not to mention what I'll do to you later, and that's before I hand you over to Molly Weasley," Hermione finished.

Suddenly he felt something hitting the back of his head. He looked up in surprise to see Gibbs standing there, cup of coffee in one hand, stern look on his face. "McGee, you made a promise. Go," he said simply.

"Yes, boss… er, Gibbs," he stuttered, scrambling to his feet. Even though Gibbs had stepped down two years prior he was not an uncommon sight, and still had everyone calling him 'boss'. Hermione followed him to the mens bathroom.

"When you called in reinforcements I didn't think you'd stoop that low," he said as she followed him into the bathroom without even checking to see if there was someone else inside. Luckily there wasn't.

"I'll stoop as low as I need to get you there. Now hurry, or I will Apparate you there," she shot back.

"I will," he promised quickly. He hated Apparation, and would do almost anything to avoid it.

"That was quite a show, Mrs. McGoo," Tony said as he entered the bathroom, casually leaning against the sinks. "You really know how to call in the troops."

"Any witty movie quotes for me, Tony? I'm kind of in a hurry, so you best get them out now," Hermione muttered, sliding a pair of shoes under the stall door.

"Ouch. Have I become so predictable that you think you can script our conversations?"

"Yes," she replied with a smile.

"I should feel insulted," he scowled.

"If it takes that little to insult you, I'd be more concerned about your fragile little psyche."

"Don't you worry about my little psyche, Mia-knee," he smirked. "I'd be much more concerned about my…"

"Finish that thought and I'll _show_ you exactly how I brought down a fugitive murderer," she said dangerously.

He flinched. "Is that the one you said you managed to take down without a gun when you were eighteen?"

"And hadn't slept in about forty-eight hours. Not to mention was pretty badly injured."

"I'd prefer not to find out about that first hand," he muttered before heading towards the door. "Have fun tonight, McGeezer."

"McGeezer?" Hermione asked.

"Don't ask. Pointing out that he is older than me is an exercise in futility," Tim sighed, opening the door. "I feel dumb," he muttered, looking over the crisp, formal suit he was wearing.

"You look handsome," she said, reaching out to tie his tie for him.

"I really don't want to go, Hermione," he admitted.

"Why?"

"Because I just… well, she…"

"Because she's going to Hogwarts after the summer and you don't like the idea of your baby girl leaving for school?"

"Eleven is so young, and Hogwarts is all the way in England. When I first started thinking about kids, I thought I'd have until eighteen before I had to let them go away for school. Isn't there somewhere closer?"

"Hogwarts is the best of the best, and I'm sure she'll be in good hands. She wants to go, so she can be with her friends."

"I know. It just seems so soon."

She touched his face, and drew him to her for a kiss. "It'll be alright. And when you get some time off we'll go over there and tour if it'll make you feel better. Until then, Neville and Hagrid promised to keep a close eye on her and keep us updated."

He sighed, wrapping his arms around her for a hug, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. Things changed over the years, but Hermione's hair always smelled of the shampoo she was faithful to and the potions she used to keep it manageable. The years had been good to Hermione, her body had become curvier after the birth of their daughter, but she was still slender, she had yet to develop a gray hair, and it was only when she widely smiled that her face showed a hint of a wrinkle. She was giving him potions to elongate his life, she expected to live well past 100 and was hoping to keep him around as long as possible, and the potions kept him feeling young even if his hairline wasn't as far down on his forehead as he would have liked.

"It'll be okay," she reassured him. "We'll see her on holidays, and during the summer."

"It doesn't seem like enough," he muttered, and she checked her watch and swore.

"You're going to be even later if you don't get going now," she insisted, pushing him towards the door.

"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbled, heading towards the elevator. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Do I ever?" she said quietly. "I'm enjoying my night off by having dinner with some friends."

"Which ones?" he asked, but he saw Abby and Gibbs had materialized behind her.

"Go!" she commanded, and the elevator doors slid shut.

Twenty minutes later he rushed through the door of the elementary school into their gym. It was done up for the occasion, balloons, colored lights, and carefully done-up tables surrounding a dance floor. His eyes scanned the crowd, and it was easy to find her. She was sitting at a table, Emily and her father sitting with her, waiting for him to arrive. He took a deep breath and went over.

"You're late," she said, looking characteristically like her mother as she crossed her arms.

"Sorry, Minnie," he smiled sheepishly, calling his daughter by her nickname, since she hated being called Minerva in public, and knew Minerva Caitlin McGee only came out when she was in trouble.

"Let me guess, held up at work?" she asked. She was as smart as her mother, and used it to her advantage.

"Always. Do you… would you like to dance?"

"Of course, daddy," she smiled, seemingly forgiving him in that instant as she stood up, the periwinkle blue dress that had once been worn by her mother for the Yule Ball, which had been altered for her by Mrs. Weasley, moved lightly around her as she rushed around the table to take his arm. He led her to the middle of the dance floor, and they started dancing together.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked after a minute. "Ready to go to a new school and all, is what I mean."

"Yeah. I'm so excited to finally be able to go to Hogwarts."

"Aren't you nervous? Your friends are here…"

"I'll have friends there, too. James, and Albus, and…"

"I know," he sighed. "It's just so far away."

She smiled knowingly up at him, then put her feet up on his as she had done years ago when he was first teaching her how to dance, resting her head against him. "Don't worry, Daddy," she whispered. "I'll always know where home is."

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, but not forgetting to dance.


End file.
